


The Goopening

by vands88



Category: Campaign: Skyjacks (Podcast)
Genre: (dref is not okay), (like ten times), 5 Times Fic, Bird!Travis, Cat!Travis, Changelings, Coyote!Travis, General hijinks, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, I swear, M/M, Magic, Pre-Slash, Rabbit!Travis, Snake!Travis, Vomit Mention, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, its not though, sounds like beastiality, the goopening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands88/pseuds/vands88
Summary: Dref really hates the "goopening" - the bone-crunching, muscle-melting sound of Travis changing - but one night he accidentally strokes rabbit!Travis and suddenly the goopening isn't the weirdest part of his day.alternative title: Five Times Dref Cuddled Travis As A Changeling (and one time he cuddled him as a human)alternative alternative title: Dref's four thousand word panic attack





	The Goopening

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I’m still bitter that JPC wasn’t on board with the “rabbit!travis sleeping beside dref” scene so I wrote 4k of fluff (and some gore and some nonsense) to make up for it. 
> 
> Also, we haven’t seen all of Travis’s animals, so, uh, I picked a bird because it might be vaguely cannon, and a cat because I like cats, and a snake because Prim_the_Amazing thought it would be cool. For those that can count, that’s five seasons so I’m pretty sure this will be jossed immediately. 
> 
> Thanks to the folks on discord for fact-checking for me. If you're reading this, you're going to be thoroughly disappointed in how little cannon I actually know. (I mean, is this even how we're spelling the "goopening?")

**I.**

The first time it happens, Dref nearly throws up.

Admittedly, this is pretty standard when Travis transforms but this time it had nothing to do with the nauseating bone-crushing “goopening” and more to do with the thing that happened _afterward_.

They were arguing about cargo (or something else entirely inconsequential) one evening; the entire command down in the captain’s office, shouting their proclamations, loud and obnoxious, when Travis - _rabbit_ Travis - literally jumps into Dref’s lap.

“Nuh-huh,” his man-voice demands as his rabbit form settles confidently on Dref’s thighs, “Don’t think you can escape this conversation so easily-”

“W-what? I w-wasn’t-”

“I saw you!” Travis accuses. “You were getting up to leave!”

Dref falters because, yes, he had actually been about to get up from the captain’s chair and excuse himself, but how _Travis_ knew this was beyond explanation.

He admits defeat and lets Travis trap him in this inane argument about coffee beans, and after a while, his eyes begin to flutter with sleep, and the voices of his crewmates turn into whispers, and it’s all… nice, and quiet, and warm…

The rabbit freezes under his palm.

Dref tears open his eyes in a panic as he realises what he’s done. He looks down to where his hand is still on Travis’s rear having _stroked_ his ridiculous rabbit form. _Stroked_.

 _Oh god, oh god,_ he’s going to throw up, he can feel the _bones_ underneath his palm, all small and not-human, and the beat of his little rabbit-heart which is going too fast and…

One rabbit eye rolls up to look at him, dark as night.

Dref’s hand startles away from him. “Uh,” he says eloquently.

Travis rolls his eyes - how??? - and turns back to the conversation like Dref is a mere inconvenience to him and not sweating buckets, and hyperventilating, and feeling faint, and… _oh god_ , he really is going to throw up this time.

He _stroked_ Travis. That’s weird right? It feels weird. What equivalent body parts did he even _touch_? His back? Was it just his back? A friendly pat on the back? Is that the equivalent here?

 _Oh god, oh god_ ….

His tongue darts out to wet his lips which are suddenly very dry. “It’s, uh, l-l-late,” he stutters, cautiously scooping Travis from his lap - _feet! legs! tummy! oh god, oh god..._ \- and depositing him on the desk where he belongs. “I, uh, I have to… go. Now. Bye.”

He scuttles out of the cabin and amidst the other’s shrugs and goodbyes, feels deathly black rabbit eyes glare at his retreating back.

**II.**

Travis doesn’t even mention the stroking incident and in the days that follow, Dref assures himself that he was overacting. He’s seen the others pick up Travis when he’s in animal form; he’s seen Jonnit scratch behind the ears of cat!Travis and Gable rescue bird!Travis when he thought it was a good idea to fly alongside the other, much larger, beasts, and then there was that one time the cook literally picked up snake!Travis by the tail and threw him out the kitchen. So it was… normal, right? A perfectly normal interaction. Nothing weird about stroking your good friend while he’s in an animal form. Nice, even. Good. Normal.

Except now Dref is hyper aware of their interactions. It’s like Travis _knows_ the stroking thing made him uncomfortable and is now going out of his way to be in his space after he’s transformed for the night. Dref manages to side-step most of the encounters without raising suspicion, until a week later when Travis transforms into a bird.

Dref learns very quickly that you can’t avoid a bird. You can’t casually stand between crates, or behind a desk, or otherwise conjure an obstacle between you and your animal friend because birds can _fly_.

Travis waits until the command are on the deck, mapping out their destination from the stars, before he makes his move and lands squarely on Dref’s shoulder.

Dref’s knees buckle from the sudden intrusion, Travis’s feathers brushing against his cheek as he lands. Dref brings a hand to his shoulder to knock him away but Travis’s beak pecks at his finger and he quickly withdraws, cradling his hand to his chest.

“Ow!” Dref complains.

“Please, I barely got you. Just stand still and let me listen to Jonnit get everything wrong. This is the best entertainment you can get on the Uhuru.”

“B-but you c-can fly. Isn’t that more f-fun?”

Travis shrugs by ruffling his wings. “Not really, no.”

Travis settles and they both watch in amusement as Gable reaches to grab Jonnit down from the mast when he gets yet another question wrong. Jonnit manages to swing to safety, and before they know it, they’re watching a cat-and-mouse chase all along the deck.

Dref supposes this _is_ pretty good entertainment.

“You know,” Travis says, hopping from one leg to the other on Dref’s shoulder as they watch Jonnit ungracefully hop a barrel, “I could totally take a dump on your shoulder right now.”

“D-don’t you d-dare.”

Travis makes an indignant noise and stretches his wings out behind him, feathers tickling the back of Dref’s neck. Dref is surprised to note that it isn’t an _entirely_ unpleasant sensation. “Fine,” Travis grunts. “But I _could_. If I wanted. I have the power.”

Dref huffs. The easy banter is nearly enough to make him forget that Travis’s rear is literally centimetres away from his shoulder, but now he’s thinking about the bird’s anatomy and its human equivalents, he can’t _stop_ thinking about it… how a _wing_ is slung around his neck, and a _tail_ is tapping against his upper back, and a _beak_ is bumping into his cheek… _oh god, oh god, oh-_

Gable catches Jonnit by the neckerchief and holds him, kicking and screaming, over the side of the bow.

Travis sighs against his neck, and Dref literally has no idea how that’s physically possible. How can that much air can even come out of bird-sized lungs? _How_.

“That’s my cue,” Travis says dramatically, before launching from his Dref-perch in a flurry of white feathers to rescue Jonnit as he falls over the side of the Uhuru.

**III.**

It was a bad day. There was blood. Lots of blood. And death. And fighting. Dref’s hands shake as he wipes blood from his face, unknowing whose blood now stains the wash basin. He needs a bath. He also needs food. Sleep. And a memory-wipe of the last eleven hours and thirty-seven minutes. But he’ll settle for a snooze on the captain’s bed.

He’s just laid down and closed his eyes to visions of gushing blood and screaming when he hears the door to the captain’s quarters creak open. He opens an eye and sees Travis in the doorway, skulking in cat form. Dref has a brief and bizarre moment of jealously - when Travis changes, everything changes, clothing and all - he wouldn’t have spent the last half hour picking dried blood from under his fingernails.

Dref turns back to look at the ceiling. He can’t deal with people right now. Travis will have to tease someone else for a change. He closes his eyes, hoping Travis will get the message, when he feels a soft indentation in the mattress beside him, and moments later, soft, gentle, paws on his chest.

“I--can’t, right now, Travis. Please. I n-need to s-s-sleep.”

Travis looks at him with wide unblinking eyes, as dark as the abyss, but there’s something soft about them; something kind.

Then, Travis turns away, flicking his tail at Dref’s face, before settling down with intent on Dref’s chest, wrapping his tail tight around his curled body, and lowering himself into a sleeping position.

“Oh,” Dref says. He wants to object - he probably _should_ object - but he’s too exhausted to move, and… he’s warm, and sleepy, and Travis is purring deep against his chest. His hand moves against his will to stroke Travis just once, the feeling of bone and sinew and fur under his palm no longer as foreign as it was, before he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**IV.**

The next week, the Uhuru stops by a shady port to pick up a job. It’s harder to score a good deal without the Captain-puppet, but it turns out Gable can be pretty persuasive when they need to be, and so while Gable and a few of the more hardened-looking crewmen “discuss” a deal with a very nervous-looking trader, the rest of them are just out enjoying the town. The brothel doesn’t interest Dref, and neither does the dull circus tricks this town deems “theatre”, so he makes himself comfortable at the corner of the pub instead, with a drink of ale and an interesting book about the history of featherweave. Jonnit is getting drunk on a nearby table, attempting (and failing) to flirt with the young people around him. Dref keeps a wary eye on the situation since Travis has made himself scarce to transform for the night; his half-drunk ale and trashy fantasy novel are right where he left them on the table next to Dref.

This is what makes it weird, he thinks (as he watches Jonnit attempt to lead the other youths in a folk song), the fact that ten minutes ago, he and Travis were having a perfectly normal evening - trading barbs and flicking peanuts and updating each other on the progress of Gable’s deal, and Jonnit’s chances, and whether Yanis would ever give up the throne to be with Isla (Travis has read a thousand similar books with a thousand similar plots but he always seems concerned that this time they won’t get their happy ending) - but now Travis has hidden himself somewhere to transform into godknowswhat animal for the night. It would have been a normal evening, it would have _nice_ , had it not been for the unnatural, gruesome, transformation, happening in an alleyway nearby.

Dref had been so lost in this thoughts that he didn’t realise Jonnit had been successful in rousing his fellow youths into song until one of them dares jump on Travis’s table to give a dramatic flair to the descant. Dref turns his glare to Jonnit, still sat at his table, as his new friends all sing and dance around him, the boy daring to look all hapless and innocent as if he didn’t just cast this musical into existence.

Dref turns his gaze towards Gable, hoping to find some sanity there, only to find that the previously-terrified trader is now cheerfully clapping along and the Uhuru crew around him are puzzled, but definitely going along with it, Gable procuring a contract before his cheerful eyes.

“Oh, this isn’t g-going to go b-badly at all,” Dref murmurs under his breath, wondering if they’ll still have a deal with the trader after Jonnit’s spell wears off, or if this will be yet another port they can’t frequent again. He wishes he knew how to break the spell before it gets too far out of hand…

It’s as he’s wishing this, of course, that a beautiful albino snake with eyes as dark as night comes slithering into the fray. Dref stares, open-mouthed, frozen with fear, as he watches the scene unfold. Singing turns into screams, dancing turns into running, smiles turn into faces of pure horror… and the spell is broken.

It’s then that the patrons get out their weapons.

Dref looks to the others for help, but he quickly realises that he’s the only one who knows who that snake is that isn’t already deeply involved in the situation. Oh, _hell_.

“Don’t hurt him!” he shouts across the panicked pub. “He’s m-mine!” The patrons pause. The snake does too. Dref scuttles out from behind his table to scoop up Travis from the floor. “D-don’t hurt him p-please. H-he’s just s-s-scared.”

The youths look at him strangely, but their disgust is nothing he’s not used to, as he drapes Travis’s snake form around his neck.

“That’s one creepy pet, mate,” one of them says, and the rest of them titter in agreement.

“S-sorry,” Dref says and tries to make himself look as unthreatening as possible as he retreats back to his table.

Dref hides behind his book and waits patiently for the pub to settle again - for Jonnit to slink back to his crewmates with shame, for Gable to return to negotiations, and for his own panic attack to subside - before attempting to talk to Travis.

“What w-were you thinking?” he hisses up at him.

“It worked didn’t it?” Travis says from his shoulder. “Besides, I didn’t see _you_ doing anything.”

“You c-could have been s-s-seen.”

Travis slinks across his neck and Dref is equally horrified by what equivalent body parts are where and confused by how good it feels to be getting a neck massage from a sentient snake.

“Huh,” Travis says, his head coming down past Dref’s shoulder, “I didn’t know featherweave could withstand gales of such magnitude. How interesting. Do you think-?”

“I’m s-sorry,” Dref interrupts, turning his head to glare at Travis, “Are you reading my b-book?”

Travis bobs his head up and down, which is the snake equivalent of a shrug. “You were on the same page for twenty minutes, I was bored. Have you finished having a panic attack? Because the figures for that underwater experiment are on the next page.”

“Uh,” Dref says, because he doesn’t know how he feels about Travis sitting on his shoulders, reading his book. Besides, aren’t snakes meant to have terrible eyesight? How is he even reading this? _How_. “S-s-shouldn’t you be k-keeping an eye on Jonnit?” he tries weakly.

Travis darts his tongue out, smelling the air. “Snake tongue, baby. I can do both. Now, _turn_. And bring me my ale. I think I can drink it if you pour it into a shallow container.”

“That _c-cannot_ be a good idea,” Dref hears himself protest, even as he tips the ale into a shockingly clean ashtray.

“Mmm,” Travis says, as he dives down to literally bathe his head in the ale. “Now this is what I call a good evening.”

Dref looks on in horror, but still reaches out and dabs Travis’s chin with a pocketchief when he’s done so he doesn’t drip ale all over the featherweave book.

“Mmm,” Travis hums again, as he slinks back around Dref’s shoulders, settling in for a good night’s reading.

Dref smiles softly to himself, and then does what he’s told and turns the page.

**V.**

Gable bursts into the captain’s quarters, all seven-foot of flaming fury, with an unconscious white coyote in their arms, and Dref nearly throws his self-preservation instinct to the wind and tackles the fearsome warrior in rage.

“What the fuck happened?!” he yells, and he doesn’t know who’s more surprised by his unwavering anger as Gable carries Travis to the desk.

“ _Hey_ ,” Gable exclaims, “this was _not_ my fault-”

“You sent him out there! I think t-that makes it your f-fault!” Dref cries as he pulls out his medical kit. If he wasn’t so terrified of the unmoving body in front of him, he might find the time to be scared of Gable. However. “W-what happened?”

“He was meant to get in and out before-”

“ _What. Happened_ ,” Dref interrupts, because he knows this, he knows what the plan _was_ , but now his hands are hovering over the many, _many_ , wounds across the coyote form and this was definitely not the plan. It’s only four hours until sunrise. How can Travis transform like this? _Can_ he even? Or will he…

 _Oh god_ , he’s going to throw up.

“There was a trap,” Gable surmises. “A spiked pit. He fell.”

Suddenly the wounds in front of him make sense - the countless scrapes and punctures - and Dref, once again, has the urge to leap across the table and put a surgical knife right through Gable’s skull.

Travis makes a whine that sounds more feral than human and Dref reaches to stroke his muzzle, attempting to calm him. The feeling of warm breath against his palm does something to settle his own nerves too.

“O-okay,” he says to himself. “I c-can do this. I’m g-going to do this.”

Three hours and forty minutes later, Dref thinks he’s finally found and patched up every wound on the coyote. His hands are covered in Travis’s blood. The sky is starting to turn pink outside and Dref is _terrified_.

He always hates when Travis transforms. He knows bodies. He knows how they work. He knows that no amount of magic can make the transformation natural. He knows how complicated the process is. How much pain it must cause him. The sound of his bones crunching _tells_ him how painful it is. He knows Travis shrugs it off, says he “got used to the pain” but Dref _knows_ he must still feel it… he sees the little twitch under his eye just before the transformation starts that belies his cavalier attitude. Every time, Dref has to look away, but even then he can _hear_ it and can ascribe pain to each and every horrifying sound, and it drives him _insane_. He hates that Travis has to undergo this every single day, _twice_ , and he hates that every single time, he feels the pain with him and carries the constant fear of _what if this horrendous complicated process goes wrong, what if you get stuck mid-transformation, what if a bone grows the wrong way, what if you get interrupted, or injured, or…_

And now he’s actually living one of the worst case scenarios and it feels like he’s going to pass out. Eighteen minutes until transformation. Dref breathes out slowly, and very shakily, as he tries to calm his nerves. He slouches down beside the desk, medical equipment at his feet, ready for round two. He breathes out again and leans his head back against the desk. He looks sideways at the coyote beside him - his head comically overextending the length of the desk - and watches as Travis’s beautiful dark eyes blearily try to open.

“Hey,” Dref whispers to him. “It’s n-nearly s-s-sunrise. T-this is g-going to be a b-bad one b-buddy.”

Travis groans, and Dref finds it overwhelmingly reassuring that it sounds more Travis than coyote.

“It’s okay,” Dref says, reaching out to stroke down his neck. “I… I’m g-going to be r-right here w-w-with you.” He swallows down the fear that sentence provokes. He needs to be here. For Travis.

Travis’s eyes fall closed again, and Dref needs all the reassurance he can get. Thirteen minutes and counting. He knows it’s pathetic, but he shuffles along the floor, until he can rest their exhausted heads together, and feel his steady, reassuring exhale against his skin.

And then, just before dawn, he feels the smallest lick against his neck, before the untold horrors of the goopening begin.

**+1**

Dref wakes up with a crick in his neck and an aching back and a warm body against his and is so utterly confused until the horrors of the night come back to him. Travis had the slowest, most excruciating, most heart-stopping transformation of his life, but he did it. And Dref was there the whole time. He didn’t even vomit. Probably because by the time the horrific sight stopped long enough for him to do something about the nausea, he immediately had to go about patching Travis up again. Injuries, as it turns out, are the one thing that are transferable between bodies. In different places, obviously, but still very much a Problem. Dref must have worked on Travis for another hour or two before he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

And apparently he succumbed right atop the desk, right beside Travis. He sincerely hopes none of the crew came to check on them while he was plastered against Travis’s very-naked side.

Dref tries to untangle himself to check on the injuries but the movement must stir Travis into consciousness because he’s soon murmuring Dref’s name.

Dref clears his throat. “I… I’m here. How… how are y-you feeling?”

Travis opens one eye to give Dref a glare. “Worse now my blanket’s moved.”

Dref feels a blush break out across his face. “S-sorry, I-”

Travis laughs, and then winces in pain, and then laughs again. The idiot. “God, you're weird. You don’t mind doing this when I’m a snake, or a cat, or a rabbit, but the moment I’m me again, you suddenly can’t stand to… Oh god,” he suddenly breaks off with a wince, “Please don’t tell me that’s why. That’s so gross. Oh god. I can’t even-”

“W-what? No, I-”

“I mean, you do you, but, personally, I think my human side is my _best_ side, and definitely the only side I’d consider getting busy with, if you get my-”

“I don’t? I don’t w-want?” Dref starts but he’s honestly struggling to process this entire conversation. Did Travis just admit all the cuddling was on _purpose_? And then come to the conclusion that Dref wants to “get busy” with his _animal counterparts_?! 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Travis mutters, and unwisely tries to move from the desk. Dref gently eases him back down, and takes a moment to check the stitches on his stomach while he’s at it. “That explains why you hate the goopening so much at least-”

Dref winces at the thought of transforming; he thinks the horrors of the last one might stick with him for a while.

“-because it reminds you that the animals are me and I am the animals, and if you’ve only got the hots for-.”

“N-no,” Dref interrupts, as forcefully as he can. “I’m not into… I’m just… people-shy,” he concludes with a blush, “that’s all. I d-don’t have much experience with, uh,” he says, waving his hand over Travis’s very naked, very human, torso, and hoping he gets the idea. “And I h-hate the ‘goopening,’” he says with a shudder, “because it hurts you, because I know how much it h-hurts you, and I w-want to s-s-stop it but I c-can’t. I h-hate t-that y-you c-c-ould g-g-g-” he breaks off, he’s so nervous, he’s stuttering too much to be any good to anyone.

He closes his eyes in shame, and looks away, wishing he could be coherent for once in his life, when it _matters_ , instead of -

A warm palm cups his cheek.

Dref sighs, and opens his eyes, looking back towards Travis. “Every time, I think… what happens if you get s-stuck. What if you die that way. Stuck.”

Travis frowns. “The sun rises and sets every day, Dref. I’m not gonna get stuck.”

“And the seas used to be safe. And ships didn’t used to fly. And angels d-didn’t used to fall. It could happen.”

Travis’s frown twists as he mulls this over. It’s the truth and they both know it.

“You stayed with me this time,” he says. “I remember. You were there through the goopening.”

“ _Please_ s-stop calling it that,” Dref interrupts before he can stop himself.

Travis moves his hand to entwine it with Dref’s. “That was… pretty cool of you,” he says, and it might be the most sincere that he has _ever_ sounded.

Dref feels the blush on his cheek again.

“It was nice that you were there. I was… scared,” he says, and looks away at the admission, “but I could hear your voice, and it… made it kinda less scary,” he holds a brief, watery smile, before that falls back under a mask too. “So, thanks, I guess.”

Dref swallows the heart that is suddenly in his throat. “You’re w-welcome. I s-suppose I could g-get used to it, if that…”

“You don’t have to-”

“No,” Dref interrupts. “It’s p-part of you. And I like you. So.”

Travis smiles. Dref’s stomach turns and not in a vomit-inducing way. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Travis smile if it didn’t involve a) stealing b) murdering or c) hijinks. It’s actually really nice.

“So, uh,” Travis says, “I’ve got a plan, if you’re game?”

Dref nods, thankful for the change in conversation because he’s not sure if his stomach can handle any more butterflies.

“I was thinking we steal some rum, kill Gable, and then… relocate to the captain’s bed? Because I _really_ don’t want to transform on this desk again… also, clothes,” he says, looking down at his body covered in bandages and very little else. “Clothes would be good.”

“G-good plan.”

“Yeah? I didn’t forget anything?” he teases.

Dref smiles softly with amusement, stroking his thumb over the back of Travis’s hand. Travis is obviously angling for a kiss. Instead, Dref reaches over onto the Captain’s chair and pulls out an apple. “Eat, Travis. You need to eat.”

“That’s not exactly-”

“I know,” Dref says with a smirk, and makes sure to brush his lips ever so slightly against Travis’s fingertips as he passes him the apple. “Rest awhile. I’ll be here.”

“Even for the goopening?”

“Even for the goopening.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks folks! as always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://vands88.tumblr.com/) where I'm currently thirsting over Gable (who isn't though?)


End file.
